OB Teaser
by Fixated
Summary: Vampire!Tom, anyone? Lady Draculea and BEWDS proudly present another rp! Due to certain peculiarities of vampires have caused this fic to be posted elsewhere, but there's a link in here at the end of the first chapter to the second. TRHP


**Old Blood**

**BEWDS and Lady Draculea**

**Chapter 1: Immortal**

Immortality was a dream, most would say. To live forever you would have to withstand time itself. You would have to watch empires fall and rise, stand to the side as loved ones died, and even stand back as rules and traditions changed. Immortality appealed to many, but more believed that it wasn't worth it. One life time was more than enough to some, but every once in a while, someone would make that dream into reality.

There were various means to become immortal. Many have tried to achieve these means, and just have many have failed. The Fountain of Youth, a legend to most, had actually dried up centuries ago. To be granted immortality from a god, well, easier said than done. As the ways of old had been forgotten, so had most of their gods. One would be lucky to even find mention of the deities that had once played a vital role in wizarding society's everyday lives. The philosopher's stone had been destroyed years ago. Other means of immortality usually meant dabbling in the dark arts. Unicorn's blood would prolong your life, but it would lead you to a cursed existence. Horcruxes almost guaranteed long life, unless of course, you lose your life in the process of creating one.

There were some dark creatures, though, that were granted immortality. Vampires, for example, while immortal, feed off the blood of the living and shunned sunlight, but to Tom, those were only technicalities.

While Tom hadn't considered that option of obtaining immortality when he was younger, and admittedly less sane, he wondered why he hadn't thought of it sooner. Perhaps it was fact that vampires weren't considered wizards and his pride had simply not allowed him to even think of obtaining immortality through vampirism. Perhaps he had become a little desperate, though he didn't think he had. If anything, Tom welcomed the change. For one thing, it forced him to appreciate some aspects more than he once had.

The night, for example, was a time of beauty and peace. The night air sang crisply while the shadows that lurked in every corner whispered secrets that he had never dreamed about. He didn't only practice dark arts, now he was considered dark. The concept didn't bother him like a part of him thought it should. Normally, when a wizard fell far enough into the dark he would wither and become sickly, slowly being destroyed because it was what the dark did - destroy. But now, Tom could see that the dark was more than that. Without destruction there wasn't rebirth. And he had been reborn into the darkness.

He was still adjusting, the cravings at first were hard to control, the bloodlust more powerful than any imperius curse. With his rebirth came changes that still awed him. It was slow at first, but the damage that the dark had done to him once had been slowly melted away leaving him the wizard he had once been. It still amazed him when he looked in the mirror. He had once avoided his reflection, hating the way his revival had left him, but now with a head full of black hair and eyes that were the grey-blue they had once been, he was afraid he was growing a narcissistic complex.

The past year had been used to adjust to his new life. The vampire who had turned him, his sire, spent most of that time teaching and guiding him in the ways of their kind before returning to his coven. Tom now felt comfortable in his skin, something that he hadn't felt for decades. The simple pleasure of feeling the breeze on his skin was divine, and the feel of hot blood dripping down his throat was indescribable.

With his new perspective came new conclusions on the war he was waging against Albus Dumbledore and his Order. Now that Tom had achieved the immortality that he had so longed for, he was at a bit of a quandary of what to do next. As his thoughts had cleared with his rebirth as did as his opinions on humans, not just muggles and wizards.

According the Ministry, Tom was no longer considered a wizard even though he could still perform magic just as he could before. In fact, vampires were even more controlled than werewolves. As werewolves were technically dangerous only during the full moon, save for a few exceptions, vampires lived off violence and death. Blood was almost sacred to wizards. Blood magic was considered dark, and if you had access to someone's blood you could virtually make that person do anything you wanted. The drinking of one's blood, obviously, was not something that was tolerated.

Blood was, in fact was the reason why Tom was strolling through the shadows in Diagon Alley. He had business to attend to, specifically, an object that could only be found in one of the shops deep within Knockturn Alley, and stopping for a quick bite to eat seemed particularly appealing to him.

Creeping through the shadows, Harry found himself thanking whatever granted his dad the blessing of an Invisibility Cloak and allowed Dumbledore to return it to him his first year. With this he was able to escape detection any time he wore it. He almost felt invincible - as long as he wore it.

Despite this, he moved with absolute care. Knockturn Alley wasn't to be compared to Hogwarts or even the Department of Mysteries. If he were caught, there would be no chance of being saved. Not that he thought he would need any saving, but he knew that it was entirely possible. There weren't too many people about, so that was good. It lowered the chance of someone bumping into him.

No normal person would have been able to find him. Unfortunately, there were several groups he knew that were undoubtedly not normal and each one of them were interested in him. It wasn't near as shocking as it should have been when someone grabbed him and pulled him into a nearby dark alcove. The hood of his Invisibility Cloak was pulled back slightly and he finally recognized who had grabbed him when they spoke.

"What do you think you're doing, Harry?! Sneaking out of the Dursley's to skulk down Knockturn Alley? What are you thinking? Are you trying to get yourself killed? Anyone of these creeps would delight in doing any number of nasty things to you before handing you over to the Dark Lord," Remus whispered heatedly after casting a few choice, temporary wards.

"How did you find me?" Harry muttered, rather put out that he had been found so easily by the Order. Glancing around sharply, the werewolf pulled his best friend's godson further into the shadows.

"I had just relieved Shacklebolt when I heard your crack of apparition. Guessing and hoping, I apparated to Diagon Alley just in time to see your cloak flutter over you as you set off down Knockturn. Really, Harry, what are you doing down here?" He was calming down, but he was still as worried as before. Doubting that the man he considered as his second godfather would be truly calm until they were out of Knockturn, Harry patted the hand on his shoulder consolingly.

"I came down here to get some Defense books. The one time I ended up down here accidentally, I noticed an interesting Defense shop and heard that the only reason they were down here was that getting a shop in Diagon was too expensive. I just wanted to check it out, Remus," Harry explained calmly, glancing every so often up and down the alley.

"And you couldn't wait until daytime to do this?" The werewolf asked, barely resisting placing his hands on his hips. Smiling briefly up at his honorary godfather, Harry leaned forward just slightly.

"Daytime down here is too suspicious. They'd expect it, so if I went late they would just think it was some Dark supporter," Harry shifted to his left, glancing up at Remus' face to help make his point. Pursing his lips slightly, he moved his hand down to loosely encircle the teen's upper arm.

"Is the store you were talking about called Daren's Defensive Doodads?" Remus was looking at something over Harry's shoulder as he asked.

"Yeah. How did you know?" Slightly surprised, Harry followed his honorary godfather's gaze. "Oh.... Since we're already here, can we go ahead and check it out? Please, Moony? It won't take too long," he cajoled, unleashing his pleading eyes on his ex-professor. Sighing deeply with a sad smile, he acquiesced. In the dim light, he was reminded of his two old friends that would get the same look on their faces when trying to convince him to go along with them.

Harry pulled the hood of his Invisibility Cloak back up as Remus dispersed the wards and, following close behind his companion, started to cross the street. With many glances at those out and about, they made it across safely and to the doorway of the little shop, but that is where their luck ended.

Fionne's Antiquities was a rather small shop squeezed in between two other buildings that could have been considered abandoned if not for the candles burning in the windows. Held together by magic and dirt, the buildings that made up the Alley were actually what were left of the old community.

Once upon a time, Knockturn Alley was gateway into the wizarding community in Britain. Largely populated and bustling with activity, there wasn't anything that a determined witch or wizard couldn't find in one of the shops. Most prominent pureblood families had townhouses to use while on business, procuring land, arranging marriages or contracts. What was most note worthy of the times of old, was that the Ministry didn't exist.

The Ministry of Magic, in fact, was a rather new establishment. Built after the Battle of Psyche, which was named after the Dark Lady of the eighteenth century, who had fallen in that battle. The battle had taken place at the meeting place of the Council Members. The Council Members were what could be considered the rulers of the wizarding community. Comprised of six, the Council comprised of a representative of the most dominant races: wizard, vampire, werewolf, veela, goblin and dwarf.

Each would work together to maintain peace between each race, negotiating goods for trades, as well as delegating laws and maintaining the secrecy of their world from muggles. There were no hidden motives, no attempts to obtain power. Each representative held as much power as the other. Each voiced any cause for concern, dealing swiftly and fairly against any threat to their people.

It wasn't to last, though. Obviously with the Ministry's existence, the Council was broken apart. Treachery didn't come from within, instead it came from without. The Dark Lady Psyche wanted the power that the Council held over the magical community, but neither did she want to share it. She, with her army of Sylphs, wind spirits, and wizards, attacked the Council, effectively destroying them. Lady Psyche, for her second move, decimated much of her opposition by imprisoning the werewolves and torturing them, breaking their minds and turning them into mindless beasts. By harnessing these creatures she struck down her opposition and sending many into hiding. Dwarves, once cheerful and friendly fled to their underground caves, vampires fled the country to seek safe havens, the veela secluded themselves in their forests, and the goblins, angered returned to their homes deep within the mountains.

It was the wizards, in the end, that stopped Psyche and returned peace to the country. One wizard in particular, Percival Neeble, was who had struck down the Dark Lady. Indebted to his victory, the community quickly elected Neeble as their leader and formed a new government where Aurors, witches and wizards specifically trained to prevent disaster like Psyche, were trained. The government quickly grew what it was today, a corrupted pool of filth and treachery.

Neeble never extended peace or offered any sort of friendship to the races that the Council was once comprised, instead he branded them as dark and dangerous, more likely to cause more death and destruction like the Dark Lady did. He claimed it was their fault that Psyche had attacked in the first place. Soon, bonds were broken and over time, people came to fear vampires and werewolves, their dislike of goblins grew, and veela were seen little more than animals in heat. Dwarves, were all but thought of has nothing more than legends. Everything that the Council had strove for was destroyed.

Now, centuries later, those fears and prejudices still existed. The Council now nothing more than a story told to children, history lost in the story books. Many wizarding children knew the story of the Council, Tom included, though admittedly not until he stumbled upon the story during one of his searches for information. A Council intrigued him and he soon found that the idea grew to an almost obsession. He wanted to have the Council reinstated to its former glory, but first, he had to destroy the Ministry and secure the alliance of the races once joined.

It was one step of many that brought him to Knockturn Alley in the first place in search of an item. The night was young, the scent of life in the air, and Tom felt alive, ignoring the technicality that he was considered dead.

Deathly pale with skin as cool as marble, few things heated his skin like sitting near a fire used to do. Feeding, temporarily heated his blood, as well as sent waves of ecstasy through him. Certain enhancements had been made since his change as well. He certainly could not turn into a bat, nor could be fly without a broom, but his senses, such as sight, touch, taste, and auditory had all evolved to a point that even unnerved him. At first it nearly drove him mad being able to hear the heart beats of those around him, constantly reminding him of the sweet nectar running through their veins, but he soon grew attuned to it, he was forced to. He couldn't attack everyone who happened to have a heartbeat. That would be a sure ticket to being destroyed.

With this new immortality came what Tom thought was the fine print. He wasn't invulnerable, he could still be hurt. A stab through the heart or decapitation were two means of destroying him, but what Tom enjoyed the most was that the killing curse would no longer effect him. You can't kill what is already dead.

When Tom had learned that particular aspect, he had become incurably smug and hard-headed, that is, until his sire cast the curse on him, demonstrating that it still hurt like hell. While he couldn't be killed from the curse, Tom had no plans of having it directed towards him if he could avoid it.

The wooden floors under Tom feet groaned when Tom entered the shop. The air stale and stagnant, Tom fought back a grimace at the taste in the air. Would it really kill them, Tom wondered, to keep their shops clean? Just because you dabbled in the darker side of the magic didn't mean that you had to live as a slob.

"What can Fionne do for you lad?"

"An' what d'you think you're doin' down here, Lupin? We don't take kindly to yer type here," a burly man snarled, as he spun Remus around to face him - and his four buddies. Harry moved to stand closer to his honorary godfather, thankfully unnoticed - or so he thought.

"What's that?" one of the other men reached out his hand, trying to get a hold on what he could smell and hear but not see. Curling around behind Remus, he clung to the back of the werewolf's cloak. They had to get out of there before he was discovered or all hell would break loose.

"Since I am not welcome, I will just take my leave," Remus ducked his head just slightly before turning to head for Diagon Alley. Moving as quietly as he could, Harry moved to Remus' side, keeping his guardian between him and the strange men. It would be him that they would be most interested in, after all, and Remus was much stronger than he looked. The group, unfortunately, followed.

"We're jus' makin' sure yer leavin'," the leader sneered, dangerous eyes searching the seemingly empty space around Lupin. Looking back at the creepy men, Harry didn't see the upraised stone on the path. Silently, he fell, but he could not prevent the noise of his body hitting the ground or the air being forced out of his body. The Cloak slipped.

Two of the men dove for him and he was unable to get to his feet in time. Remus was held immobile by two of the other men. Not a single spell was used, which really confused Harry. Weren't the men wizards? They pulled him to stand, nearly tearing off his Invisibility Cloak.

"Well, well, well, whot do we 'ave 'ere?" One of those holding him guffawed, tightening his hold on Harry's arm painfully. "Are you a pretty little boy? Do you keep the traitor Lupin warm at night?" All the men laughed cruelly at this, but it cleared up one thing for Harry. These men were werewolves.

"Whot were you doin' down here, Lupin? It's almost as if yer askin' to be brought to Fenrir," the leader taunted Remus, ignoring Harry for the moment. That didn't mean that those holding him ignored him.

"C'mon, boy, we'll treat you real nice," the one on his left leered, but Harry just shuddered and shook his head. On his right, the other leaned close, sticking his nose uncomfortably close to Harry's face. The other just laughed when Harry tried to move away.

"We like the way you smell, boy," the sniffer murmured right next to Harry's ear. Becoming more and more nervous, Harry tried to jerk away. Those holding him just laughed loudly and held him closer. Luckily, his hood was still up, but he wondered if his identity would faze them at all. Would they immediately deem him the Dark Lord's or would they try something funny? He almost missed dealing with the Death Eaters. At least their motives were clear.

Glancing around, Harry noticed that no one else was on the street. Earlier, there hadn't been too many, but they had been there, lurking. Now they had all cleared out. Maybe they were all taking refuge in the shops? Those were still open, though the only way to know was if the candles in the front of the shop were lit. For a moment he wondered what Knockturn Alley looked like when first made. Surely it couldn't have been built out of dust as it looked now.

"D'ya think Greyback'll let you stay free for long, rogue? You will join or die," the leader growled, right up in Remus' face and holding him firmly by the hair. Remus had his eyes closed and was doing his best to face away from the leader. Being so wrapped up in the situation, none of them heard the quiet sound of footsteps headed their way.

With the object he sought carefully tucked away, Tom softly closed the shop door behind him. It hadn't taken as long as he thought it would to haggle for the token of which he needed, surprisingly. The shop owner, Fionne, a relic of the past in her own right, was oddly compliant and seemed to know more than Tom had originally assumed. What he was looking for wasn't so much a tool with certain properties, but instead it was a location. Inked into parchment, a riddle held the answer to a where he could find Volva, a woman long dead who spoke the future before dying, waiting for another who was in need of her talents.

His footsteps light, the heels of his boots the only faint sound that disturbed the night, Tom followed the path trailing back to the border between the newer quarter and the old. Shadows of witches and wizards scurried away, hiding in corners, peering and watching as he passed them by. His presence wasn't particularly hidden. While few would recognise him as Voldemort, as the image of Tom Riddle had long been forgotten, few generated a presence quite like he did. Tom was quite aware of his charming personality, but with his new life he _allured_ all sorts of people. Clearly, Tom had mused after dining one night, it made his victims much more willing. Although, some knew how to recognise one of his race, and took precautions to avoid his presence.

Shouts rang in the distance just as a cloud that had been blocking the moon, floated away with the wind, illuminating the scene up ahead. There was a group up ahead, five, no six, of the figures had the smell of werewolf while the seventh the unmistakable scent of wizard with the beguiling flavour of virgin and power. Tom could feel the sudden sensitivity of his teeth and the overwhelming urge to taste that sweet blood flooded his senses, but he pushed back the instinct. If he could get the young wizard alone, then he was all for the taking, but while surrounded in the presence of werewolves, he would have to stand back in wait. Twas a pity, though, since the young one smelled familiar.

What could they do? Five against two was ridiculously unfair in their situation and there was no chance of back-up. No one knew he was missing from the Dursleys' and Remus was supposed to be the guard until early tomorrow morning. They were screwed. Werewolves were stronger and faster than Wizards _and_ they were outnumbered.

"We'll take'em to Fenrir, that's whot we'll do. Let him deal with them," one of the werewolves holding Remus growled, gripping the rogue's shoulder tight. The others nodded, leering unpleasantly. Holding Remus even tighter, they turned and apparated with a crack. The leader glanced over his shoulder at the two with Harry.

"I s'ppose you'll be wantin' to be havin' some fun with 'im?" He received two eager nods. "Well, don' damage 'im too much. Fenrir may want to have a go at 'im." Two more nods and the leader followed after those with the first captive.

Laughing their heads off, the two werewolves dragged Harry to a nearby shop that had no candles in the window, but when the door was tried, it opened with no fuss. He refused to move his feet, but he was just picked up and carried like a small sack of potatoes. Struggling was completely futile and the one time he tried to take in enough air for a good yell, it was forced out of him when he was plopped onto a dusty piece of furniture. Sitting there, staring up at his captors, he wondered if any of his plans would ever be completely safe.

**TBC**

**Author's Note:** BEWDS – It's already continued, actually. Quite a few chapters, but they won't be posted on FF dot net. As cruel as it is, we decided that because of some of the darker bits of this fic it wouldn't be wise at all to post it on this site. Instead, it's up on y!gallery. It shouldn't be too much of a push to get an account on there and get to see the Harrymort group. Second chapter — http: slash slash yaoi dot y-gallery dot net slash view slash 415950 slash  
This link won't work very well unless you're logged in to your account, so simply go to y!gallery first, make your account, and then replace the words with the proper keyboard symbols – slash being shift ? and don't forget the dots!

Enjoy. #heart#


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